
r 



MBR.\K\ Of CONGRESS 

lllllllllllllllli 













^^^„' -1=*^ 



■.^ftt^^^'' 




R ^ 



^s 



/•;;.'■ ^"^ 


/ 


9^. 




> V 




' '- . 


•^ & 

-"^^0 








./% 














.'^■■•■.v-. 

^-0* 

.^1°. 



.<^ 



\- 






j5t" 



C6 P ^2 



MISSION-flLR-Sr PAPER, NO. 7. 



NOTICE OF CIIIPPEWAY CONVERTS. 

Tirn natiiro aii<l pxccllcncc of the objoct which tlie 
friends of forciirn missions aim to accomplish, cannot 
j)rohahly bo shown more plainly, than by «in cxliibition 
of the character of tliose individuals on whom the gospel 
has ♦•\«'rtr<l its transforminij: power. The design of 
this Paper is to jjresent to tiie patrons of missions such 
an exhibilioFi of uiiat has been effected, by their con- 
tribiin«Mi> and j)ra\' r>. in the ca>e of a few Indian 
(Converts. 

Such cases shoidd l»e noticed, because they illustrate 
the manner in which the grace of (iod searches out the 
objects of his saving mr-rcy, fmding tiiem ignorant and 
far removed from all Christian watchfulness and instruc- 
tion, directing their way amiilst the most inauspicious 
circumstances, and at last briniring them uiider the sound 
of tiie irov|Ml, and renewing their hearts. 

Ii i> inii-r<"sting to see how the truths f>f the gospel, 
applied by tile Holy Sj)irit, operate, wln-n first presented 
to rninds which have grown to some maturity in ignorance 
of therFi ; and to observe the analogy between the feel- 
iniT^ of those under the inlluences of the Sjiirit, among 
the heaihen, and of those who are operated u|M)n by the 
s.iiiie Spirit, ill the congregations of a Chri.-ti tn land. 
There is manifested the same view of the human cliar- 
acter, of the nee«l of divine aid, of the guilt of sin, and 
<d' the appropriateness of the doctrines of the gospel ; 
ronnected with the same change of external character, 
c<.rre«.ponding with the new light which lis dawned on 
the mind. 

1 



2 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 

Such narratives also bring before the mind in a striking 
manner the contrast between those who are without the 
gospel, and those who enjoy its light and embrace it. 
The effects of the change on individuals and neighbor- 
hoods, for this life and the future, cannot be estimated. 
The missionary and his patrons see in these converts 
living proofs, that their work is feasible, and that God 
approves of their labors and is co-operating with them. 
They also see the greatness of their work, which is to 
effect a similar change in the whole heathen population 
of the globe. 

[Those narratives were furnished by the Rev. W. M. Ferry, missionary 
at Mackinaw, and may be relied upon as being authentic. The various 
iudivjduals mentioned are members of the miijsion family.] 



ELIZA, AN INDIAN WOMAN. 



Her Life, before Conversion. 

The Indian name of Eliza was O-dah-be-tuh-ghe-zhe- 
go-quai, signifying in English the Mid-way-sky-woman, or 
the place of the sun at noon. She was born near the 
Aunee, about 300 miles up the south shore of Lake 
Superior ; and is by descent of the Chippeway, or more 
properly, O-jib-e-way tribe. She does not know her age, 
but is probably not far from 45 years old. 

Being of influential connections, (her uncle a principal 
chief,) she was selected to become an interpreter of dreams. 
This took place when she was probably about 16 or 17 
years old. Her merits for this rank or honor must, ac- 
cording to their superstition, be decided by her living ten 
days in a separate lodge, without any other nourishment 
than a little water each night. She faithfully observed 
the prescribed abstinence, although it nearly cost her her 
life. Her bodily strength was almost exhausted ; and on 
being brought out of the lodge, probably from being too 
plentifully fed, she fell sick, and did not recover for several 
moons. And yet, of her own accord, soon after she got 
well, she fasted nine days more. From this time she was 
considered an extraordinary being. The clan woulS not 
permit her to work, but provided for her a wigwam of 



Eliza, an Indian JVuman. 3 

distinction, and constantly supplied her with the best of 
their every thinf;, both food and clothing;. 

She was also furnished with a large oit(r skin, or ined- 
irine sark, stored with every necessary article, either for 
rnatrical cure of the sick, or for interpreting dreams. This 
sack, which she carefully preserved, was her badge of 
honor ; and in all their medicine dances she was greatest 
amon:,' the great. One proof of which was taking the lead 
in drinking whiskey. In this way she became so exces- 
sively inH'mperate, that in one of these scenes she lost her 
sack. This was during the last war, at the commencement 
of which she came from Lake Superior, and resided on the 
main land west of Mackinaw. Another sack was provided 
her; but this she kept only about two years. Near this 
time she lost one of her children, which, together with the 
loss of hrr second sack, and the neglect of the Indians, so 
dispirited her, that she abandoned herself to every vice. 
About nine yrars ago she lost another child, the third of 
lour. TIkmi for a w liile. she li>t<ned to advice, and stopped 
drinking. Hut it was not long before she was allured 
awav into tlu" woods by an Indian man and woman, where 
whiskey had been previously carried, and there those two 
|)ersua(led her to drink with them. In this drunken frolic, 
through jt'alousy, as she su[)j>oses, but witlmut any just 
provocation, the other woman fell njjon her, and cut oil' her 
nose. Thi> was the greatest disgrace, in her estimation, 
that she could [Hissibly suHer. And for a long time her 
friends had to watch jjer to keep her from destroying her 
life. Once slie trird to hang herself At another time, 
returning from .Markinaw, where slie with otiier Indians 
had been for whiskev, she threw hersdf into the lake, but 
the Indian in the .strrn caught her by the hayr, and drew 
her again into the caiute. After this she beizifn to think 
that the unknown Indian, who, as she supposed, had the 
care of her lifr, was uuwillnig that she should kill her.self, 
and she ga>«' up all further atl<nipts to effect it. Having 
but one child h-fl, she now staid sometimes on the island 
of Mackinaw, and sometimes on the main land, with no 
lixrd oliject but to g<t whiskey by every j)ossible means. 

The hrst kiKjwh (Igf I had of her was in the fall of IS'23. 
Soon after oui school was f»i)ene<l to receive children, I one 
day met her boy, and on ascertaining who he was, I went 
with an interpreter to the lodge of the mother. A wretch- 



4 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 

edly destitute and miserable scene we witnessed. At that 
time no persuasion could induce her to let me have her 
son. But going the second tim.e, and the boy himself be- 
ing willing, she at length reluctantly gave her consent. 
However, in a few days he ran away, and though I obtained 
him again, yet through the winter the mother watched for 
opportunities to get him. The following spring, more out 
of pity than for our convenience, I employed her, first in 
the kitchen, and afterwards at the sugar camp on Bois 
Blanc, a neighboring island, on condition that she would 
drink no whiskey and conduct herself properly. By much 
counsel and care, she did so much better than my 
fears, that I finally told her, that, provided she would be 
steady, and do such w^ork as -^he was able, she might have 
a home with us. From that ume, I believe, she never had 
but three or four seasons of intoxication. 

First Religious Impressions. 

It is now about three years since her serious attention 
to religion commenced, the amount of which for some 
length of time was very fluctuating. While under the sound 
of instruction she would be more or less affected, sometimes 
to tears. For several years, during the hours of Sabbath 
school, we have had a separate school for Indian women 
and others, mostly under the care of Mrs. F., for the pur- 
pose of reading and explaining the Scriptures, tracts, &lc. 
It was at these meetings that Eliza was often affected; 
though afterwards, as she says, she would throw the sub- 
ject oflT, and become in a measure indifferent. Again, per- 
haps, impressed with the idea that there could be no mercy 
for such a creature as she was, and the thought of her re- 
ligious state making her unhappy, she would avoid being 
present at these meetings. Under this same impression, 
she could not think it right for her to come with us to family 
worship, or to the evening meetings of the females. Yet, 
she says, she often felt so strong a desire to hear the sound 
of prayer and singing, that she has gone to the door of the 
room, and remained there as long as she thought she could, 
without being discovered — sometimes till nearly frozen. 
Most of that winter passed with such uneasiness of mind, 
that, when not daring to look to God herself for mercy, be- 
cause she was such a sinner, she would feel it a kind of re- 



Kiiza, on Indian 'Woman. 5 

lief to overhear the worsliip of others; as if God miorht possi- 
bly hear their prayer.^, tliough t^he was unwortliy to be 
present. 

Duriiiji the sprinu, while at the suirnr camp, slie says, she 
was jrreaily distressed duriiio; the wlujle time. When fratli- 
eririir sap, she often liad feelings like these — 'Here 1 am, 
goin<{ the same round daily from tree to tree, and can find 
no rcliel' — I must always carry tliis wicked heart, and when 
I dir U' miserable forever.' — The pif)us Indian woman who 
had charffe of the su^rar camp, used to talk .<ome with her; 
and aftf*r seasons of prayer, would perhaj)s ask her if she did 
not feel the imj)ortance of joinin;^ in heart with her. She said 
phe did. And ihou;rb there was to her mind no prospect of 
ever boint^ better, yet she would, as she says, for<:et herself 
and feel strong desires for mercy. After her return, she 
thought, as she says, that every one must lm)k ujx)n her con- 
dition as a hojH'less one; and, as before, she often staid 
away from meetin^rs, l)ecausc shethotiir|it her.>ielf unfit to be 
there. Mfist of the followin<r summer she spent at the farm, 
where at times she seeme<l to awake to an aflecting view of 
her dreadfid >tat<*, and with such feelings that she would go 
olf from the house, and j)r ly and weej) much alone: but lor 
the most j)art she indid^ed in (lesj)air, without relief 

The next fall we had unusual sickness in the family, nnd 
Kliza an<l her son w«re h-ft at the farm alone lor two or 
three weeks. 'J'hey also were both taken sick: and pnjbably 
suffered somewhat lor the want of nursing, before we were 
aware of it, and could bring them honu.'. Jn reference to 
this tiuie. she says, tliat after sIm' was taken sick, she 
thought with herself, that she had fouiul no relief to her 
mind in our trai/, meaning that of ( 'hristians, and that she 
would again trv Iht o/^/ rrwy of medicine sfjii^s; and that she 
.^pent the gr<aier i)art of several nights in .soiiirs and her 
former Indi;m mmnmr-ry. After she was brought home, 
Bhe discontinue <1 this: but she thinks she lost nearly all 
anxiety al>out her soul, and seemed to liavc no feeling 
further than to take care of Joseph, her son, as he failed. 
lie talked with her considerably, but she said she did not 
feel it much: that she was like one wlio had lost her .senses, 
and nothing seemed to move her feelings. A few days be- 
fore Jose|)h's death, he had a long conversation with her; 
told her that he should <lie sor>n, and that ho wanted her to 
promiiic him never to drink any more whibkey; to remain 
•1 



6 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 

with the mission family; listen to their instructions; and 
pray every day to God: then, when she died, she would go 
to God with him. At first she told him that if he died she 
would die too. But Joseph said that was wrong; that it 
would not be as she said when to die; but that God only 
had a right to have her die when he wished. At length 
she promised him that she would remember and do as he 
had requested. 

During the whole scene attending Joseph's death and 
funeral, her behavior was singularly calm and solemn: so 
much so, that it was noticed by all. Many a professing 
Christian mother might have received from her in that 
afflictive scene, a silent, though awful reproof, for immod- 
erate grief. When she perceived that his spirit was really 
gone, the tears rolled, and she exclaimed, 'My son! my 
son!' in Indian: but farther than this, not a complaint nor 
groan was heard to escape her lips. 

After the funeral, I sat down with her, and had a long 
conversation. Among other things, I asked her,why it was 
that she appeared as she had done: whether it had been so 
at the death of her other children? To this last she said, 
no; and gave some account of her feelings and conduct — 
how she had, as is common among the Indians, wailed and 
mangled her own body in self-affliction. In answer to the 
former part, she said, 'I have no such feelings now — God 
is good, and I feel that what he has done must be right/ 
Although she expressed no consciousness of the love of God 
in her soul; yet she furnished comfortable evidence to my 
mind, that her feelings were under the sanctifying influence 
of the Holy Spirit. On the following night, as she now 
relates, while fixing her bed, all which had passed between 
her and Joseph, a few days before his death, rushed upon 
her mind like a torrent, awakening at the same time an 
impression that there was no hope for her soul: but in a 
moment, she determined with herself to pray once more that 
God would have mercy. For the purpose of greater retire- 
ment, she started to goto the cellar; and while descending 
the stairs, as if she could go no furtiier,she settled down, and 
began to pour out her desires. This is the last distinct 
recollection she has of any thing that took place then. How 
or when she got back she has no knowledge. Between 11 
and 12 o'clock, I heard a distressed noise, and lighting a 
candle immediately, I went to her and found her apparently 



Eliza, an Indian IVonUm. 7 

asleep; and upon awaking her, I asked if she was sick? 
she said, No; and I went back. The first that she remem- 
bered was seeing me with a candle in my hand. She after- 
wards, as she says, engaged in prayer again, and was 
then, for the first time, conscious of enjoyment in the love 
ofCijrist. The next morning her soul was so filled with 
love for all the members of the family, that, as she saw 
one and another, she says, she felt that her own children 
had never been so near to her heart as they. Now she Rlt 
so cntirrly reconciled to the death of Joseph, that she had 
no inclination to grieve. At times, she says, her mind 
would recur to the scene of his death; but to use her own 
expressions literally interpreted, 'I felt as if I was in a 
narrow hap[)y way, and if a thou^^ht came to me about 
Joseph, it .se(.'m«'d like i)eing drawn outof tiiis way, and I 
Umisvd to get back again immediately.' AVith these happy 
fcrlings towards Uod and Christians, she now for the first 
timr thought a great deal of her own people. 'Oh if they 
could only see as I do, how hapj»y would they be.' 

Adranrnncnt in Pi(ti/. 

When askf-d about the state of Inr mind aflcrw arils, siie 
said, 'I have always been h''ipj>v in (mxI since then. The 
more I have had a view of the love of God in Christ, and 
the longer I have lived, the more I have desired to love 
him, and to love iiim more and more, and to be more and 
more like liim in mv soul. I do not know that I have since 
had any sorrow of soul so great as I have had for those who 
are ignorant of (iod. Much Nirrow I have often had for 
llieiii. Sometimes u hen L'<»ing into church, or u hile there, 
It has made mm- wtcj) to think of those who do not love God. 
Tiiere has never bmi one day, since I lound peace to my 
soul, when I did not feel that God was with me.' 'JMie rea- 
son uhirli she assigns for this mercy is, that God will soon 
take her outof the world, and that lu is pleased to be thus 
pre|)aring iier lor his presence. 'Every Sabbath,' she says 
'I have fell that this leaves me one Sabbath less to be in 
this world, and brinas me one Sabbath nearer the time 
when I shall be with Christ.' 

Here, on being i)articularly questioned, she related 
three instances \\hen for a time her mind was troubled. A 



8 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 



year ago she was reduced quite low, and one evening, word 
was brought us that she was dying. On going to her room, 
she was found to be very languid, but after some time re- 
vived, so as to be able to converse. She was questioned 
relative to her views and feelings, to which she gave an- 
swers expressive of joy in the prospect of being soon with 
God. She answered one of the sisters to this effect, 'I 
long to be gone, I want to have the time come.' After- 
wards she felt that she had expressed impatience, and it 
grieved her exceedingly; so that she had several seasons of 
weeping between that and the following Sabbath morning. 
Another time to which she referred, she had gone to bed, 
and, as she supposes, had not slept long, when she awoke 
and felt a desire to pray. She arose and knelt down, but 
had been engaged but a few moments before she drowsed. 
This occurred again; but awaking the second time, she was 
alarmed at herself, and feared that her love to God was 
all dying; and so great was her distress that it banished 
every sleepy feeling. With fears and a burdened heart, 
she set about prayer in earnest; nor did she leave off until 
her tears of sorrow were turned into tears of joy. Then 
her soul was so full that she could not sleep, and the remain- 
der of the night was spent in prayer, and joy that God was 
with her. 

The other instance was on an occasion when the girls 
had made some remarks to her, from which she thought, 
that, as she was always sick, they and the rest of the family 
considered her as burdensome, and wished her away. This 
made her feel unhappy for a few hours, but before night, 
she obtained that relief in prayer which restored peace to 
her soul. 

I afterwards put several questions to her, which follow, 
together with her answers. 

You have said that before you found peace in Christ, you 
did for a long time — for many months — feel yourself miser- 
ably wretched, and that you often prayed; was it for the 
sake of these prayers that God gave you peace? or was 
there any good in them? 'No: it was because of Christ's 
pity to my soul; because he died for poor sinners; and it 
was of God's mercy that missionaries were sent to teach 
me.' — Do you mean to have me understand from all you 
have said, that you never had any fears that you were de- 
ceived; no time in which you have doubted whether you had 



Eliza, an Indian IVonian. 9 

a part in the Savior or not? 'I liave always felt sure that 
God has had mercy on my soul; and the more I have 
thought of my old wicked life, it has been like one pushing 
me nearer to God: it has made me feel more humble in 
myself: and a strong desire to live only for him.' — But 
should God take away his Spirit from your heart and leave 
yciU to yourself, what do you think would become of you? 
'I should be gfxjd for nothing.' — Have you any fears that 
God will ever take away his Spirit from your soul? TSc' 
— 'Why?' 'From what 1 have heard of his word, he has 
|)romi.sr<l to keep those that trust in him; and I believe 
he is faithful to his word.' 

There have been several times when in your sickness 
you have been very low, and have had leason to think you 
would live but a few hours or days; have you at none of 
these times been unwilling or afraid to die? 'No.' — Have 
you always felt, that if it were God's will, it would be a 
j>rivilcge to di<', and you would be glad to have the time 
come? 'Yes; I havr. 'J'his fall, when I was very .-ick 
for two days and nights, and frit that God only could make 
me bcttrr or take me away, I thouirht, it it were his will, 
how glad I should be to know that I was dying, that I 
might be with (iud.' — A year ago last spring, [I^•^^^] you 
was baj)tis('d and received into the church, can you tell 
me any thing of your feelings at that tinie about the or- 
dinances? 'Alter I understood their design, that Christ 
had comman«le<l them, and why he had done it, I had a 
very strong de.^ire to be bapti>e(I and to receive the sacra- 
ment; nor is there any thiiiL' in this world that I have felt 
to be so great a |)rivilege. When at the table I was bap- 
tised, an<l jiromi>ed .solemnly to be for Go<l, 1 really felt 
ill n«y heart every word, and that I was now all the 
Lortl's, an<l no niore for myself or for any other. I was 
liaj>j)ier than I can express, in the privilege of being there 
with the love of God in mv heart; and when receiving the 
bread and wine, I felt that 1 could not be thankful enough 
to (iod for briiJLnuL' me to the table once. 1 thought I 
should come there no more; but that the next time, I should 
be at (iod's table in heaven.' — You see that it has not 
been as you thought. You have communed several times: 
have those always been precious seasons to your soul? 
Yes, every one of them.' — Have they been as precious 
::- the first onc? 'Ycs: as I have heard more of the 



10 Eliza, an Indian Woman. 

Savior, and have learnt more of his love from the Bible, I 
have felt each time, if possible, more and more near, and 
happy in him.' — What good do you think that baptism or 
the sacrament could do you, without a heart to love the 
Savior? 'None. There would be no joy to my soul in 
them.' — Could you have this joy and peace of which you 
have told me, if you did not, as far as you know, strive toi 
obey God in all things? 'No; I could not. Though uni 
able to do any thing with my hands to help the family and 
to labor for God, it is my sincere desire daily to have my 
heart much in prayer for them and for the salvation of their 
souls; and because God lets me live, I believe he wishes 
me to be devoted in spirit to this.' — Do you think you love 
God and souls as much as you ought? 'No: I try to love, 
but do not feel so much as I ought.' — When do you ex- 
pect to have perfect love to God and souls? At first she 
answered, 'Never;' thinking I meant while in the body. 
Afterwards she said, 'When I get to heaven.' 

Respecting- the foregoing narrative, IMr. Ferry remarks— 

I have written it as taken from the woman through an 
interpreter, and as having in part fallen under my own ob- 
servation. I have scrupulously avoided any thing like a 
more favorable coloring than facts would justify. The 
statements have been read by those who have had most 
knowledge of the subject of them, and of her exercises, and 
they believe that the impression which will naturally be left 
on the mind of the reader will be less striking than the 
reality. In respect to uninterrupted peace and spirituality 
of mind, the case of this woman is unlike any other which 
I ever knew. Aware that some will at once set it down 
as untrue, or a delusion, I have faithfully tried, but in vain, 
to draw from her something which would warrant me in 
truth to cloud some part of her Christian life with doubt; 
but you might as well attempt to make her disbelieve her 
existence, as to convince her that she has been left to go 
mourning the hiding of God's countenance from her soul. 
She is indeed a favored child, ripening fast for glory: sick 
or well, in pain or at ease, she always meets us with a 
placid, and most commonly with a smiling, countenance. 
She is afflicted with consumptive complaints, and for many 



I Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 11 

ffmonths has raised blood freely: we expected that before 
jllhis she would have been at rest. 

"~^' '" was spared to remain before (he mission family a monument of 
and an example of patience and ripening holiness till November 
13J0. 

'I At the time of her decease, she exhibited, says Mr. 

'jFerry, tiie character of tlie believer triuniphincr in death, 

*iFor many months she had been almost daily looking for 

'iher de[)arture. Though suffering much in body, yet she 

rwas uniformly patient and happy. She repeatedly said on 

'the day of her death, 'I think I shall go today.' At night 

' she shook hands with some of the members of the mission 

family, and with a smile spoke of it as the last time. But 

a few minutes before her death, in allusion to David's 

words, she said she feared no evil. Surely no unbeliever, 

observing her course down the valley, could any longer 

doubt the reality of religion, or deny the importance of 

carrying the tidings of the gospel to the unlettered savage. 



KAui.v 1 II r, A\r) coNvniisioN or r. w. n., a member 
oi' nil', .MISSION SCHOOL at mackinaw. 

'IMk' Iiidiiin name of C. W. II. was Me-sai-ain-.se. She 
IS hah inili;in, thoiiuli i)y habit of life, and by language, 
sIm' was a full nitivr of tlie wilderness, having lived far in 
the interior, south or southwest of Magdalen Island, or 
S.imt Michad's Point, uj)()n lake Superior. Her home, 
pr<'vious to entering the mission family, was about two days 
march distant trom what is called Lac Coutree. She lived 
with an aunt, and belonged to a class, by distinction or 
ceremonies, known as the Me-ta-wc. The summer that 
hhe lelt home, she was to have been received as a full 
priestess or conjuress. She had gone through all the pre- 
vious mummery, and was then on the ten days singing, or 
fiiiishiii!! scfMic; when an uncle, who had given her her 
uamr, and hnicc had a right to control her, arrived, and 
paid he lia<l been told in a dream that she must not become 
our of the Me-ta-wc. This was enough. All her former 
plan of life was in consequence abandoned, and he took her 
away. She was also, that sunnner, while with her uncle, 
one of the party in the Indian dance around the scalps of 



12 Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 

some whites, murdered by those Indians who were after- 
wards imprisoned at Mackinaw. She came down with the 
traders, and was received into the family in July, 1825. 
She understood only the O-jib-e-way language, and was 
probably between fourteen and fifteen years old. 

At my request, says Mr. Ferry, she gave the account, 
(which in substance had been given to us all before,) with 
this solemn injunction, that she would give what she knew 
to be truth, and no more nor less. — It will be seen that 
there is something of sameness in the narrative, because 
I have only felt at liberty, while following her track, to 
shape her own ideas into the most intelligible English. 
From her hopeful conversion to the present time, she has 
generally enjoyed much peace of mind. She says she has 
seasons, when conscious of little spirituality, she has been 
much distressed for fear she should be deceived, because it 
was not with her as in days past: but never, she says, has 
she been conscious of such a state of feeling, that she could 
not say from the heart, I am ready and willing to live and 
die for Christ. And her whole deportment has been strik- 
ingly characteristic of such a state of mind. She was re- 
ceived into church fellowship, with two other girls, at our 
communion season in April, 182S: and I presume I speak 
but the feelings of the family, when I say, that there has 
been no more faithful missionary to her friends and others, 
among us than she. The following is her account. 

*Two years ago the present summer, [1828] I began 
first to have serious thoughts about my soul. When hearing 
the Scriptures interpreted, what God says in them respect- 
ing the wicked, and especially, when hearing M. [a pious 
girl of the family,] praying in the native language, for the 
salvation of the poor ignorant Indians, 1 first began to think, 
'Perhaps I am one of those ignorant wicked ones.' And I 
began to use some Catholic prayers, which I had in part 
learnt, thinking these would do me good. But M. told me 
these were only prayers of the mouth, and not right with 
God; that God knew all our hearts; and that we must pray 
from our hearts as we felt, if we hoped to have God hear 
us. With this said to me, which I supposed to be true, 
I used to try to pray. Sometimes I could only use a few 
words, and did not know what was the matter with me; 
but often, in meeting and at other times, I was distressed 
with the thought, that I might be sent away with the wicked. 



Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R, 13 

I can now see, that I had then no sense of the wicked- 
ness of my heart. The more I heard the word of God ex- 
plained, and was questioned respecting it, and informed 
that not only our actions were bad in God's sight, but our 
thoughts and feelings were displeasing and wicked before 
him, the more was 1 led to look at my life, and at particu- 
lar things which I had done ; and from this review, to 
think more of my heart, that there was something very bad, 
and which I began to see was wicked, in my thouglits and 
feelings. 

" Preparatory to the first season of communion, after my 
uneasy state of mind, while helping to prepare the table 
service, I was told that none but those who loved God had 
any right or privilege at his table. I then felt as if I 
shf)iil(l never be permitted to come there, as I knew noth- 
ing of God. All the niglit following I lay awake, distress- 
ed at the situation in which 1 began to see myself: and 
thought, as I had lived so long without thinking of God, or 
rather ktiouin!! that tlu're was such a glorious Being in the 
heavens, that he would never have any thing to do with 
rne ; that I was too bad to have hiru think upon or help me. 
'I'hc next day Miss O. read, and had inter])reted to the 
girls, that jiortion of Scrii>ttire where Christ instituted tlie 
supper, and exjilaiiied to us the reason and design of the 
sn'.raiueut. Afterward^, wh mi seeing the church around 
the table, with all the alVecting scene before my eyes, I had 
a frr/lm: that there was truth in these things, such as I 
had not had beOire. And not only was my mind more 
deeply distressed for myself; but seeing so many around 
me, (roinjiared with the small number at the tabh%) who I 
supposed must be in the same wick"d and dangerous con- 
dition with myself, my ft^elingsof auL'uish became indescri- 
b ihh'. ( )ii hMving church, while alone in my room, the 
thought e.iuie to my mind, ' Why need I be so distressed 1 
there are no others who appear t.) feel as I do : perhaps it 
1-! IxM-ause these thiuir-? arc* new to me : when I become 
more use<! to them, they will not alleot me so: and it may 
be that I too may come to love God.' 

*' Alter this, while any of the fa.nily were giving mc and 
the other girls instruction, T used often to think, 'I wont 
hi these thiuLTs trouble me so much.' And if at any time I 
found my mind ronsidiTably exeit(^d, I would immediately 
try to check and do away my feelings; as it were, saying 



14 Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 

to myself, ' It is enough for me to learn little by little : I 
won't be such a fool : by and by I shall do well enough, 
when I come to know more.' With this impression I al- 
most neglected prayer. To such a degree did I give my- 
self up to this feeling, that for a long time it was but sel- 
dom that I would attempt to pray, lest my mind should be 
too much frightened or distressed. 

" The next thing that troubled me was the parable of the 
sower, which I heard read to me, and upon which I was 
requested to meditate, and give my opinion, when I sup- 
posed I understood the meaning. This troubled me much ; 
because, after fixing on what I supposed the way-side and 
the stony ground meant, 1 thought they both represented 
much of my heart : nor could I resist the anxiety which the 
thought produced. This state of mind remained and grew 
worse for some time, until I was arrested with this thought, 
that it might bring me to sickness, or derangement, or a 
worse evil : and I determined that I would try to do as far 
as possible what was right for God, and in the mean time 
would avoid indulging in anxiety." , 

Here she related a train of feelings, for several months, 
amounting to nothing essentially more favorable. The nar- 
ration exhibited a fluctuating, unhappy state ; sometimes 
awaked to anxious distress under instruction, and again en- 
deavoring to settle into indifference or ease of mind. At 
one time this struggle was severe, occasioned by the death 
of a little boy in the family. At another, on the arrival of 
her relatives last summer, Miss O. asked her why she did 
not talk with and instruct them 1 Here her mind was again 
aroused. She says she felt in keen distress for a time, 
shuddering at the thought of showing others what to do, 
when this condemned herself. This she thought would be 
to look after a mote in their eye, with a beam in her own. 
At length, when Miss M. was lying very sick, and her 
death daily expected, she came into the room, and among 
other things Miss M. said to her, * I suppose you are not 
willing to have me die ; but if you only had a good hope in 
the Savior, it would not be long before we should meet 
again in heaven, and be forever happy together.' 

" This," said she, " came home to my heart. It was 
more than I could well endure ; and I resolved that I would 
pray for mercy as long as I had life. From that time I 
was much in prayer ; and often able to get little or no rest 



Earhj Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 15 

through the night. When Miss M. and Mr. F. were about 
leaving home for their journey last fall, my mind was 
deeply atlected and di<;tressed. I thought it would be right 
in (jod, who had been so merciful as to send him here to 
instruct us, and be as a father to us, to take away his life ; 
and that I, with the other children who had not believed in 
Christ, might never see him again. How can I endure the 
thought! I will try, I will pray, and perhaps, though I 
don't deserve it, God will send him back and give mercy 
to my soul, that 1 may love the Savior. When I saw the 
ve.ssel under sail, I went alone and prayed earnestly that 
fjod would preserve them ; and that I might, if he could 
be so merciful, have a lieart given me to improve the prov- 
idence of taking them away. 

" This anxiety continued. I felt after this, no inclination 
to give up j)rayer. I often thought how I had promised to 
God, an<i were 1 not to do as I had j)romise(l, I should lie 
to him : anri then he would have no more mercy on me. I 
fell this to be my last time, my only hope. My mind was 
so pres.sed, that many times I could not sleep, and was 
often compelled, as it were, to get up and seek relief in 
prayer. 

"One Wednesday evening, after meeting, Mrs. C. fell 
in with uw, having; walked out, as I also had dr)ne, and had 
a long talk with me: and though I did not e.\pre.ss to her 
any other than anxiety of mind for salvation, yet I was 
angry. In niy airony of distress and anger 1 had such 
tlmughts as these, * What business have you to talk so to 
me ? it d(»n't concern you what becomes of my soul : you 
have not U) sufler for my sins : why not, then, let me alone, 
and not torment me.' After Mrs. C. left me, rellecting on 
the feelinirs I had indulged, 1 felt, if possible, worse than 
ever. Although I was aware that Mrs. C. knew nothing 
of my feelings, yet 1 knew they were not hid from God, 
and nnisl be \ery displeasing : surely, thought I, I am lost. 

" The following Saturday evening there was a prayer 
meeting in the giils' rr>om ; after which Miss C made re- 
marks to this amount, * That she was afraid some of those 
professing so nnuh anxiety, were deceived, judging from 
their conduct ; for surely, if they were so anxious, they 
would have given themselves to the Savior before now.' 
This was like a knife to my heart. What can I do? At 
first, after going to the bed-room with M. and C, who were 



16 Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 

also distressed, we tried to pray together. But I found 
this was no place for me ; and the whole night I spent 
alone ; now and then only awakened to keener agony from 
hearing the sobs of M. in the opposite room. Sabbath 
morning, leaving my room a little after day-light, I saw 
M. standing by her bed, and with a smile on her counte- 
nance, look at her little girl. The thought rushed upon 
me, that she must have found a Savior ; for I had never 
seen a smile on her countenance before. [Meaning, since 
her anxiety.] Now she is going to begin a new, a happy 
Sabbath, and I am left with this wicked heart to profane 
the day 1 For a moment, as I heard one of the girls ex- 
claim, ' M. has found the Savior,' I felt disposed to envy 
her. But no — I thought — this is making me more wicked ; 
I will try to follow her : and I left the house for the cedars, 
designing, at the time, to spend the day there, though I 
did not. I can give no just account of my mind through 
the Sabbath and Monday : I can only say, I had, as it 
seemed to me, every wicked feeling : my heart was so hard 
I could not weep; I could not shed a tear: it seemed a 
perfect combat. 

" Tuesday morning after breakfast, Mr. H. came to my 
room, and talked with me a good deal : he told me this 
might perhaps be the last day the Lord would give me ; 
and why will you not submit? He explained to me many 
verses of the Bible ; and during this time my heart got 
some feeling : it seemed to melt ; and I could weep. The 
whole of this day I hardly knew where or what I was. 
Sometimes I apprehended that I must lose my senses ; and 
seeing the other girls so different from myself, for a moment 
I would half resolve to endeavor to be like them ; supposing 
that otherwise I must soon be crazy. But a reacting thought 
and feeling would bring me back to all the keenness of my 
agony. Before supper I was in the girls' sewing room, 
where Miss O. read from the Bible and talked with the girls. 
I staid till 1 dare stay no longer, lest I should break out 
in something dreadful before them, through derangement. 
I got to my bed-room ; and throwing myself on the bed, I 
lay for some time unconscious of any thing but the fire with- 
in : nor durst I even shut my eyes^ for fear I should find 
myself in death, actually sinking into the flames of hell. 

" After a time, how long I don't know, becoming more 
conscious of my state, and collected in mind, these were 



Early Life and Conversion of C. W. R. 17 

my feelings : * I have tried every way, and all in vain : I 
cannot help myself: neither prayers nor anxiety do any 
pood : they lead to no relief It is right, it is just in God 
to destroy me : I ought to perish. He may do what he 
pleases : if he sends me to hell, let him do it: and if he 
show mercy, well : let him do just as he wishes with me/ 
Here, as in a moment, I liad such a kind of one, or wJwle 
view of myself, and a willingness to be in God's hands, 
that I could lie no longer, and resolved to go in prayer, 
and throw myself for the last time at the feet of the Sav- 
ior, and solemnly beg of him to do what he would with me. 
Just at this time Eliza [an Indian pious woman in the 
family, who is the subjc.-ct of the preceding narrative,] came 
and talked a gfxjd deal to me. She told me how easy it 
was to U'lieve in the Savior if I would ; and after talkinor 
Fomo. time said, ' We will j)ray together.' Here I lost all 
my burdr-n : I f«'lt liglit : a strange feeling that I cannot 
describe. — I had no thought that I loved Christ, but I was 
happy ; and yet afraid to be happy ; was afraid to give in- 
dulgence to the.'ie fc-elings: for it would be dreadful, after 
all, it a[)peared to me, to go to hell with no feelings of dis- 
tress alxjut it ! Rising from our knees, I was conscious of 
a smile on niv countenance, which I designedly concealed 
with my handkerchief, lest Kliza should observe it. Leav- 
ing th(* room, .Miss O. called me to her bedroom to eat 
some sup|)er jirepared for me. I went, but could not eat. 
Miss (). and .Miss C. urged me, and asked why I refused; 
to which I made no direct answer. AVhen they saw that 
I either could not or would not eat, they proposed uniting 
in j)rayer, in which they each led in succession. Here I 
was filled with that happine.^s which I hoped to enjoy in 
heaven. I do not know but that my enjoyment was as 
great as it was j)<)ssil)le for my soul to have, arising from 
a view of the love, the nearness, and the glory of the Sav- 
ior. I .seemed to see it, to feel it all, in a fulness of joy 
bevond exj)ression. At the close of prayer my mind run 
on this hymn, * Alas, and did my Savior bleed !' and with- 
out exprj'ssing the wish I had to hear this hymn sung, Miss 
C. in a few moments commerjced singing it. The whole 
hymn possessed my soul in mingled joy, and wonder, and 
love. Kspecially the last verses, so that I was here as 
much lost to myself in the bliss of joy, as I had been 
before in the anguish of despair. Perhaps my counte- 



18 Early Life and Conversion of M. A. W. 

nance told my feelings ; and Miss O. asked me if I could 
now love that Savior. I answered, I hope I do. This 
was the first intimation I had dared to give of the peace 
of my soul. But my joy had swallowed up all fear, and I 
could not resist the answer. Now I had such a love for all 
around, as well as for the Savior, that I could have folded 
them to my bosom. For two days following, night and 
day, there was little or no abatement of this happiness. I 
appeared to be in a new world : every thing led me to 
God : not an object did I see but seemed to say, * how 
glorious and lovely is the great God." ' 



EARLY LIFE AND CONVERSION OF M. A. W. 

M. is a half Indian woman of the O-jib-e-way nation. 
She does not know her age, but she is probably between 
twenty-two and twenty-five years old. She was born at 
Fort William, or what is called the Grand Portage, on the 
northern shore of Lake Superior, where she lived till about 
four years ago. Her father was a Frenchman, and clerk 
to one of the Hudson Bay traders. He left her mother 
when M. was about four years old, and has never been 
seen by her since. About ten years afterwards her mother 
married another man, and removed with him towards the 
Rocky mountains. M. has not seen her since. She, with 
her brother, was left in the family of a trader, where she 
was required to go to a priest daily to learn the Catholic 
prayers and catechism, for the purpose of preparing to re- 
ceive baptism. This course she continued, with more or 
less regularity, for three years. 

Having passed through various scenes, she was brought 
into the mission family in August, 1826 ; sometime in the 
following spring was the first of her being disposed to listen 
at all to any thing said to her on the subject of religion. 
She had been often told that prayers which were merely 
repeated, but do not come from the heart, were good for 
nothing : and when she now heard Mrs. L. and another 
Indian woman speaking of their views and feelings, she 
felt that she had never had any sorrow for the sinfulness of 
her heart. When questioned, she had heretofore said that 
she never sinned against God, and she thought that we 



rD 1.4 b<^^ 



Early Life and Conversion of 31. A. W. 



19 



must be very wicked when talking so much about a sinful 
heart. This, together with what she heard from the word 
of God, made her doubt if she might not be wrong, and in 
this way she was h^d step by step, until she became con- 
vinced, and gave up her Catholic prayers. 

Her own mind at length became so distressed with a 
view of lierself, how she had lived, how she had fought, as 
it were, against the truth, and the astonishing goodness of 
God in bringing her here against her will that often, dur- 
ing that sumrnor, she felt as if she knew not how to go 
al>out her work, or where she was. *' Being at the farm, I 
became," she says, " so bad in my own view, that I could 
not bear to sit at table with the family ; I often felt myself 
so unworthy that I could not eat, and had to leave the 
table. Al>out this time Mr. II. said very little to me, and 
I thought In- hK>ked upon me as a lost soul, and that my 
conduct had boon so wicked in resisting the light that 
there? was no iiope for me. This, thou«rli dreadful, I felt to 
be just and true, and thought I couhl not have too mean a 
j>lac«', unnoticed i)y every bo<ly. Soon after, there were 
two days in particular, that I was unable to do any thing, 
I fell so stran::<ly <listrcssed. The second night I could 
not l:o to IhmI at all, but spent the night in weeping and 
jirayiT. It ajjpearfd to me that the Savior was near, but 
still I could not go to liini, could not give myself to him, 
and find |)('are. 

*' After this, I lost all anxiety alnuit my soul ; and when 
I prayed, I bad no fi'dini:. 1 contiimed in this state with 
no perc<-j)tibl«' chaiiixe, till at a meeting for religious con- 
versation, I was (jue>tionf(l wlielh<'r I meant to lead the 
8ann; life I had done, or i.nve up all for Christ : then, as in 
a moment, it seemed as if all tliose former feelings which 
had bern my a'/ony, rushed up<jn my mind ; and unable to 
answer a word, 1 burst into tears. 1 remained some time, 
after all had h-ft the room, in great distress. There I 
prayj'd, that if the Lord had not entirely given me up, he 
would show me more and more of my heart, and give me 
no peace until I should find it in the Savior. It was then 
that I resolved that I would seek until I found mercy. 

" (Jn the jbllowiniT Saturday evening, after going to my 
room, I lay down, but could not remain in bed : I spent the 
lime in prayer, and s<>em(Ml to myself like one on a preci- 
pice, just ready to fall, and sometimes bewildered as if los- 



20 Early Life and Conversion of 31. A, W. 

iiig my reason. In the morning I threw myself on the bed, 
with a willingness to have God do with me what he would 
— to save or destroy me. I saw that as I had resisted so 
much ; I had no fault to find, if he now refused to show 
mercy. But just as if some one had laid hold of me, I got 
up in a few moments and unconsciously knelt by the bed, 
where, attempting to pray, I could only thank God. He 
appeared so good, he seemed so near and so precious, that 
I could not have words fast enough. I felt in a new world. 
Can this be that change of which they have told me? I 
dared not to think I had found it ; but I was happy. I 
felt that I was so beyond expression. On going to the win- 
dow, words cannot express how good and lovely every thing 
appeared to me, as if full of God. I then concluded that 
I would take a v/alk for prayer. I came down and started ; 
but often had to stop in surprise, admiring every thing 
around me as if it were new. I could hardly believe I was 
in the same world, and such a season of worship was given 
me alone as I never knew till then. 

*' When I came back, I awoke the girl who slept with 
me, and told her I hoped I had found the Savior. She got 
up, and we united in prayer. My heart was full : every 
word came from my soul. I can say that I felt it. We 
then went to the room where the females of the mission 
family were. Never did they appear so to me before. I 
could not help loving them ; because, as I thought, they 
loved Christ, and I could not refrain from embracing them, 
and telling them that this was the first Sabbath I had ever 
seen. They sung a hymn, and although I did not know 
how to join with them in voice, yet I did in spirit. The 
whole of the Sabbath I enjoyed very much, my mind mostly 
filled with an inexpressible view of God's goodness ; and, 
being asked by some one if I could ever sin against so 
good a God, I answered, as I then felt, that I could not. 
But that answer afterwards caused me sorrow. I felt that 
I ha-d said too much." 

The amount of her subsequent exercises shows the 
Christian with his clouds as well as sunshine. Yet, on 
the whole, her life manifests the growing Christian, and 
savors much of one that lives in the spirit of prayer. She 
was received into the church in the winter of 1828. 





V 

























t * 












°<. -0 •^<» 






-> 



c 



0' . ■ ■ A- 









v^ 



^°. 



(.IBNARV ■INOI<4a O \- . -** 



x^r,. • .^*^°^ 



GUSTINE 

f"! A. 



